


Ensnared

by Rouxyn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10674843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rouxyn/pseuds/Rouxyn
Summary: I'm not the first and certainly not the only distraction Moriarty has found for himself. But like all his distractions, I am solely at his mercy.Winry lives a life in the dangerous shadow of Jim Moriarty, but manages to make contact with Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. Through threatening trials, she must decide if a life of freedom is worth going against her loyalty to Moriarty.





	Ensnared

Maybe the only way for life to feel real is to constantly believe that the world is ready to come crashing down around you.

At least, that's what I came to think from a young age. I won't trouble your tender conscience with my dark backstory: I believe the first line has set the appropriate mood. However, I would like to lead you attention towards my reason for bringing it up at all: a man.

Perhaps that is the most false way I could describe him, even though he did harbor the physical characteristics of the opposite sex. He had the manner of a fallen angel; the nature of a demon; and the smile of the devil. He know all this only too well, and was perhaps admiring these qualities in his silent contemplation.

He was watching my absorbed performance from where he lounged in a plush leather armchair - the only other piece of furniture in the room aside from the black grand piano and its stool, which I was perched on. His ankle was crossed over the opposite knee; his upper back pressed deeply into the vertical form of the chair. The relaxed posture was a stark contrast to his predatory eyes, which were fixated on the distant floorboards as his thoughts fed on his attention. His elbow was propped on an armrest, allowing his forearm to suspend his hand as its index finger traveled across the indent between his supple lips.

Catching a glimpse of this on the varnished surface of the instrument before me, I knew that he was currently weighing the worth of someone's fate. A chill ran down my spine, causing goose-flesh to bloom across my arms. The reaction was enough to distraction my concentration and cause my fingers to stumble in the midst of an intricate run. My fingertips had barely lifted from the ivory keys when the armchair behind me created a cringing scrape against the naked floor. The sound was thrown back from the blank walls, taking advantage of the room's acoustics.

"No... No. No. No!" he roared.


End file.
